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' l ' l,S'.W,'0' V
A DAY'S LODGING BY JACK LONDON
(Copyrighted, 1913, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association.)
(CONTINUED FROM SATURDAY.)
"Then we'lLJiave to go," she an
"Impossible. You have a dry, hack
ing cough the sort. Mr. Haythorne
so aptly described. You've already
slightly chilled your lungs. Besides,
he is a physician and knows. He
would never permit it."
"Then what are you going to do?"
she demanded again.
There was a fumbling at the latch,
then the door swung in and Hay
thorne entered, with an armful of
firewood. At the first warning Ther
esa began casually to clear away the
dishes. Haythorne went out again
after more wood.
"Why didn't you introduce us?"
"I'll tell him," she replied, with a
toss of her head. "Don't think I'm
"I never knew you to be afraid,
very much, of anything."
"And I'm not afraid of confession,
either," she said, with softening face
and voice. "And I'm not afraid to
ask you to forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, Ther
esa. I really should thank you. True,
at. first I suffered, and then, with all
the graciousness of spring, it dawn
ed upon me that I was happy, very
She came over to his side, resting
her hand on his arm. "You don't
want me, John?" Her voice was soft
and caressing, her hand rested lightly
as a lure. "If I told you I had made
a mistake? If I told you that I was
very unhappy? and I am. And I did
make a mistake."
Fear began to grow on Messner.
He felt himself wilting under the
lightly laid hand. The situation was
slipping away from him, all his beau
tiful calmness was going.
"I am coming back to you, John.
I am coming back today now."
Suddenly he sprang to his feet,
thrust her from him as her arms at
tempted to circle about him, and re
treated backward to the door. He
was in a panic.
"I'll do something desperate!" he
"Don't run away," she laughed. "I
won't bite you."
"I am not running away," he re
plied with child-like defiance, at the
same time pulling on his mittens.
"I'm only going to get some water."
When he entered he found the oth
er man waiting, standing near the
stove, a certain stiff awkwardness
and indecision in his manner, Mess
ner sat down his water pails!
"Glad to meet you, Graham Wom
ble," he said in conventional tones, as
though acknowledging an introduc
tion. Messner did not offer his hand.
Womble stirred uneasily, feeling for
the other the hatred one is prone to
feel for one he has wronged.
"And so you're the chap," Messner
said in marveling accents. "Well,
well. You see I really am glad to
meet you. I have been er curious
to know what Theresa found in you
where, I may say, the attraction
lay. Well, well."
And he looked the other up and
down as a man would look a horse
up and down.
"What we want to know is what
are you going to do?" Womble asked.
Messner made a well-feigned ges
ture of helplessness.
"I really don't know."
"All three of us cannot remain the
night in this cabin."
Messner nodde'd affirmation.
"Then somebody must get out,"
"That also is incontrovertible,"
Messner agreed. "When three bodies
cannot occupy the. same space at the
same time, one must get out."
"And you're that one," Womble
announced grimly. It's a ten-mile